Once, in a different van, there was a child who would become Izak Biralei. I was in the backseat, twisted around, my hands pressed against the back window. There were two adults on either side of me, somehow stopping every bit of magic my untrained child mind could throw out. I was scared-crying, sobbing ugly and snotty, but not yet screaming.

  This didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real.

  The rest of my family stood on the lawn, beginning to grow smaller in the distance. My father held my baby brother in one arm, little Theo’s shaking body pressed against his side as he buried his face in Dad’s shoulder. Dad’s other arm held back my older sister, who was struggling and pointing after the car and yelling. My mother had collapsed onto her knees. She stared after her child and openly wept.

  A man in a dark brown uniform, a government man, stood next to her. He’d been restraining her, though not physically. He’d done it with his mind, with his magic. He’d held her in place as she screamed and screamed and reached out for me.

  Stolen story; please report.

  She’d called out that she loved me, and that’s when the crying started.

  “No,” I began softly, staring back. Then louder: “No! No no no no!”

  A woman on the left seat put a hand on my shoulder, getting a shove and a glare in return.

  “Take me back!” I demanded, my voice cracking up on the last word. “Take me back!” I shoved magic out at the woman, trying to shove her out the door.

  She threw up her hands, rune tattoos running up her fingers. She flinched, less in fear and more like she was smacked. On the other seat a government man let out a sharp breath.

  “You’re powerful, kid,” he said. “You’ll do well.”

  “You’ll get a new family!” the woman said brightly. “Don’t you want to be a Biralei?”

  “NO!” I screamed. “Take me BACK!”

  The man sighed and put a hand on the back of my small head. I was out like a light.

  My family never saw their child again.